TO THE REV. THOMAS MORTIMER.
Madeley, Dec. 1, 1824.
My dear Brother,
* * * * * * *
I am afraid, from your intimations respecting your being in quest of a morning service, that Mr. Pratt has failed in substantiating his claim; if so, I shall be much concerned. Retired from the emoluments of a former occupation, he will possibly feel this diminution in point of income; but for such a servant in the house of our God, I trust that not mere adequacy, but even the munificence of our merciful Lord, is in abundant reserve.
You inquire concerning my health. It has been far from well ever since my return from G—, strong as I seemed while there; no sooner did I enter upon my parochial duties, than I began to fail, and in about a fortnight, I was nearly as ill as ever. This induced me to lay the whole matter before Mr. Burton, and to request him to relieve my mind with an assurance that, in case I should be under the necessity of leaving, he would kindly indulge the parishioners with a suitable person in my stead. His kindness has removed my difficulties, and left me at full liberty to leave my work in more efficient hands. I have had an application for the curacy from a gentleman who strikes me as being very suitable, and Mr. Burton has accepted of his services. One difficulty, however, is in the way. He holds a living in the diocese of Worcester; but, being peculiarly circumstanced, he expects that the bishop will permit him to hold it in conjunction with Madeley, and to divide his time between them, his curate sharing the twofold duty with him. Should his application to the bishop not succeed, he has recommended to me another person, who seems equally eligible with himself; but with this latter person I have had no communication.
As to myself, I am of course in uncertainty; but I feel confident, that as I have hitherto been guided by the wisdom and goodness of my condescending God, so he will still point out to me the way in which I should go.
You speak of the mine of paper and print, and, like too many others, comfort yourself with considering that your work is but a little one. But good, my brother, beware, beware! Three services on a Sabbath, occasional weekly ministrations, and numerous official employments, should almost entirely exclude every kind of preparation for the press. With kindest love &c,
Believe me, my dear Thomas,
Your ever affectionate Brother,
George.
In the spring of 1825, Mr. Mortimer visited his London friends, one of whom writes as follows:—
“Your dear brother appeared so full of love and tenderness, and, at the same time, so interested himself in everything that appeared to interest us, that we could not help wishing for a much longer enjoyment. I heard him preach but once: his sermon was truly edifying. I will transcribe a brief outline of it, as you may find it a word of consolation in some season of sorrow. Matt. xv. 28, ‘O woman, great is thy faith: be it unto thee even as thou wilt.’ The advantages resulting from strong faith were pointed out in four important particulars; viz.—I. It yields to no discouragement. II. It bears and even overcomes the most humiliating discoveries. III. It receives the strongest marks of the Saviour’s approbation. IV. It is put into eventual possession of every needful good. Each of these points was marked out as strikingly illustrated in this affecting and interesting narrative.”
His brother, the Rev. Thomas Mortimer, has kindly furnished me with the following communication respecting the same sermon:—
“On Sunday, the 27th March, 1825, my beloved brother preached for me at my lecture at St. Olave’s, Southwark. I shall never forget that sermon. Being the only church at that time usually open in the Borough for Sunday evening service, there was generally a large attendance, and that evening the church was crowded. On entering the pulpit, my brother’s diminutive figure excited attention; and, in some, produced a smile. When, however, he had composed himself in the pulpit, his fine countenance, beaming with intelligence, evidently inspired some with respect, who, at first, had looked up with indifference, if not with scorn. His announcement of his text was most solemn and yet most tender; ‘O woman, great is thy faith: be it unto thee even as thou wilt.’ From that moment the silence of death reigned; and, after a few minutes, every eye seemed fixed upon the preacher, and every ear listening to his voice. The scoffer soon discovered that the preacher was no ordinary man: the candid inquirer felt interested in the subject: the timid and weak believer took courage: and the mourner drank in the water of life, with the eagerness of the thirsty soul. Many a time, during subsequent years, have the tenderest and most grateful reference been made to that sermon by those who were accustomed to converse with me on the great concerns of their souls. Though nearly twenty years have rolled away since that memorable night, the recollection of my beloved brother, of the touching words that fell from his lips, and the ‘unction of the Holy One,’ which evidently attended them, is still vivid and delightful, and will, I doubt not, accompany me to my grave.”
Intimation has already been given, in a letter to his brother, of Mr. Mortimer’s entertaining thoughts of leaving Madeley, owing to the declining state of his health. The following several letters refer to that event and to arrangements for filling up his important post in that parish.